


Rivals

by jhoom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blind Date, F/F, M/M, Minor Charlie Bradbury/Gilda, sports fans!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8262523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: Dean agrees to let Charlie set him up on a blind date with another hockey fan.  What could possibly go wrong?





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is an entry for [angvlichmish](http://angvlichmish.tumblr.com)'s [october writing challenge](https://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com/post/151361900585/angvlicmish-i-absolutely-loved-reading-all-your). the theme was sports and i interpreted that in the only way i possibly could - HOCKEY. 
> 
> the story is based off of [this commercial](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6HsS0ahmrfc)
> 
> this is completely rooted in my being a caps fan. i tried to make this fic a.) accessible to non-hockey fans (i don't go into jargon or whatnot... i don't think...) and b.) accessible to hockey fans of any team (i tried not to be too anti- or pro-any team). that being said, i don't like the pens and i don't like the rangers sorry not sorry ~~i can't help it they have crushed my heart so many times i'm a little bitter let me be~~
> 
> come yell at me about hockey or destiel or whatever on [tumblr](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com)

Dean fiddles with his phone, occasionally looking around and eyeing the crowd.  He can only pretend to text for so long before his already frayed nerves get to him.  If his date doesn’t show up soon, Dean’ll likely have an aneurysm.  

His hands are so damn clammy he keeps wiping his hands on his jeans.  Not that it helps.  But it gives him another outlet for all his untapped energy, a way to distract himself from  _ waiting _ .

Once again he surveys the bar.  It’s one of his favorites, mostly because they have about a hundred taps and a couple dozen tvs line the walls.  They’re mostly showing pre-game footage.  The hockey season just started yesterday and there are a whopping nine games scheduled for tonight.  More than half the league would be playing, and damn if it didn’t get his blood pumping.  

Almost enough to take his mind off his blind date.

The table jostles slightly as Charlie and Gilde return with their beers.  Dean jumps in surprise but smooths it over by grabbing one of the drinks.  He breathes in the smell of hops and lets it calm him before he takes a long sip.  It settles him a bit, but not enough that his leg doesn’t fidget nervously.

“Are you alright, Dean?” Gilda asks, brow knit in concern.  Her tone is soothing but it just puts him more on edge because  _ no he is not okay. _

“Yeah, I’m good,” he answers gruffly.  He nods a bit too much, the motion nearly causing him to spill his beer before he’s put it safely back on the table.  She quirks her eyebrow skeptically at him.  He huffs out in annoyance.  “I’m nervous okay, you happy now?”

Gilda’s “Aw hon” is almost drowned out by Charlie’s indignant huff.

“Dean,” Charlie scolds.  “No, we’re not happy that you’re nervous.”  She puts an arm on his knee reassuringly.  “You and Castiel are going to get along, I promise.  He is  _ so _ your type and such a sweetie and seriously you guys will be able to go to all the hockey games together and be that cute obnoxious couple that makes the rest of the fans gag when you’re up on the kiss cam.  Seriously, mark my words.”

And fuck if that wasn’t exactly what Dean wanted.  It was the only reason he’d let Charlie set him up with a complete stranger.  She’d met Castiel through some tech workshop she’d hosted a few months back and had been pestering Dean to meet him since then.  Dean brushed off the nagging for as long as he could, but Charlie’d finally convinced him.

_ “He’s a  ** huge ** hockey fan.” _

_ “... Go on.” _

_ “Like seriously, he canceled a dinner date with me so he could watch the World Cup of Hockey game with his brothers.” _

_ “... What team is he cheering for?” _

_ “Uh, I don’t know?  Sweden?  Maybe?” _

_ “... ONE date.” _

The happy squees of delight still haunt his dreams.  

Charlie wanted to keep the details to a minimum to up the surprise, but she’d let Dean pick the time and place (probably because she knew letting Dean have that little bit of control would help alleviate some of his nerves).  The sports bar was a no brainer, and he figured having a busy game night was a good icebreaker.  There’d be plenty to talk about if he and the guy hit it off.

… Or plenty to distract them if they don’t.  

Belatedly he realizes Charlie’s still talking.  He does his best to tune back in and not focus so much on his growing hysteria.  

“He’s such a sweetie pie.  He’s like a big teddy bear you just wanna hug and protect and put in your pocket and carry around with you.  And I have it on good authority that he is a major hottie with a body.”  Gilda nods in agreement (her assessment of the male form in general better than Charlie’s, and her taste is certainly more in line with Dean’s).  “Honestly, he’s probably too good for you-  Oh shit, he’s here!”

Dean perks up immediately, eyes darting around the crowded bar.  There are a few new arrivals, and he scans their faces trying to determine which one it could be.  

When he catches the gaze of a pair of bright blue eyes, his heart skips a beat.  Tan skin and dark tousled hair a nervous look that smooths out when he sees Dean looking his way.  Dean’s never believed in love at first sight, and he still doesn’t, but there’s no doubting the electricity that passes between them.  

That same electricity pulls him to his feet.  He’s vaguely aware of Charlie chattering and Gilda snapping her hand over Charlie’s mouth and shushing her.  It doesn’t matter as he takes unsteady steps through the crowd.  The stranger seems equally drawn in, weaving his way with as much eagerness as Dean.  They don’t look away, can’t, as their feet move of their own accord.

They’re finally standing in front of each other, no one in the way.  Dean smiles shyly at the other man, drinking in every contour of his face and doing his best to memorize it.  The blue-eyed man does the same, eyes sparkling in delight.  As the guy’s eyes roam down to his body, Dean can see the frown start to form.  His own face twists to mirror it, worried about what he sees in Dean that he doesn’t like.  Then his mouth moves as he reads out the words clearly printed on Dean’s jersey.

_ Washington Capitals. _

The slight frown turns into an outright glare as Dean finally lowers his head to take in the obnoxious blue jersey the guy’s wearing.   _ Rangers _ runs in block print diagonally down the front, and Dean takes a step back to distance himself.

Charlie and Gilda appear beside them, their hopeful faces turning into shock when they sense the growing hostility between the two men.

“Oh no!  No no no, I  _ planned _ this perfectly?  What happened?  Who said what?  I can fix this!” Charlie looks anxiously back and forth between them.  

Gilda takes a look at Cas’ jersey and squeaks out, “Oh no!”

“You didn’t tell me he was a damn Rangers fan!” Dean nearly shouts, arms gesturing accusingly at the bold red letters.  A couple nearby crowds turn to sneer at Cas (and a couple at Dean, too, for that matter) but otherwise don’t seem interested.  

“And you neglected to tell me he was a Capitals fan.”  Castiel sniffs as if just saying the rival team’s name is distasteful to him.

“Does that matter?  Is this a thing that matters?” Charlie turns to Gilda in a silent plea to help her fix things.  Gilda, having leant a sympathetic ear to Dean’s drunken rants, tightens her lips in a thin line and says nothing.

“Oh, it  _ matters _ .  How am I supposed to go to a game with a guy wearing a damn Lundqvist jersey?  How am I supposed to go to a game with a guy who’s cheering for the other team?”

“I don’t know if I have the fortitude necessary to comfort a Caps fan at the end of their inevitably short playoff run.”  

“You already shit talking my team?  The season  _ hasn’t even started _ !  And it’s not like I see King Henry winning you guys any cups!”

Castiel opens his mouth to no doubt Dean’s snark with some of his own, but Charlie physically puts herself between them, forcing some distance.  Dean hadn’t even realized he’d stepped closer in the heat of the moment, now nearly chest to chest with the other man.  He lets Charlie push him a step back and he takes another for good measure.  

“Chill, guys!  What’s the big deal?  So you like different teams?  You guys literally locked eyes and were drawn across the room to each other!  That’s gotta count for something right?”

Not wanting to admit she has a point, Dean crosses his arms over his chest and pouts.  “I told you, no Rangers fans.”

“Ah!” Charlie points a finger at him as though catching him in a lie.  “No, you didn’t.  You said no Penguins fans.  I distinctly remember because I lost an hour of my life listening to you go on and on  _ and on _ -”

“Alright, I get it,” he grumbles.  Now that she mentions it, he  _ had _ only specified the Penguins.  In the wake of the playoffs, it was too easy to focus on new grievances that he’d forgotten older ones.  “I can’t stand Pens fans,” he mutters by way of explanation to Castiel, though why he feels the need to justify himself to the guy is beyond him.

“Who doesn’t?  Honestly, fuck the Pens.”  And he says it with such solemn gravity that it’s kind of endearing.

Dean perks up a bit.  “The Flyers?”

“Those self-important bullies?  Total trash.”  His earlier smile is back, though a bit broader now.  “The Bruins?”

“Has beens for sure.  The Oilers?”

Castiel deadpans and asks, “The who?”   

It has Dean cracking up, head thrown back in a loud laugh.  He steps back in, putting an arm around Cas’ shoulder and pulling him into a hug.  “You know what, I hate your team, but I respect Lundqvist.  He’s a handsome man and a helluva goalie.”

“That he is.  Ovechkin’s an underestimated player, which is ridiculous given his stats.”

“Right!?”  Ignoring the girls, he guides Cas back to their table.  Before Castiel can take a seat, Dean tightens his grip on him.  “Serious talk - Crosby…?”

Without a second’s hesitation, he utters the one word that will forever make Dean’s inside go soft and fuzzy.  “Overrated.”

Dean smiles from ear to ear and punches Cas’ shoulder before taking a seat.  “Let’s watch us some hockey.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **bonus scene 1:**  
>  charlie and gilda: *watching dean and cas giggling over their beers*  
> gilda: … how’d you know that would work?  
> charlie: …... i’d love to take credit but that was all them (i have no idea what the hell they’re talking about how did this almost backfire)  
> gilda: … i’m still impressed  
> charlie: awww thank you baby <3
> 
> **bonus scene 2:**  
>  Dean wakes up with a start. In his confusion, he rolls over and starts shaking Cas’ shoulder. “Cas, babe. Wake up. I had a bad dream.”   
>  Castiel mumbles something unintelligible but opens his eyes and prepares to comfort his boyfriend. “What happened?”   
>  “I dreamed it was game seven for the cup and I was turning on the TV and I called you down to watch but you wouldn’t come. I asked why not and you said, ‘It’s just hockey. Who cares?’”   
>  Now wide awake, Castiel sits up and opens his arms up for his boyfriend. “Oh Dean, come here.” Dean falls into Cas’ embrace, taking comfort in the physical contact. “Who was playing, by the way?”   
>  “Pssh,” Dean snorts. “Like I’m gonna tell you. I’m using this dream when I make my bracket this year. I ain’t givin’ you insider information.”   
>  They don’t fall back asleep. Instead they get into an argument over whose goalie is having a better year.


End file.
